There existed another reformation than that of which the sheriffs were to be the agents; there were other reformers than Henry VIII. One man, desirous of reviving the Church of Christ in England, had made the translation of the Holy Scriptures the work of his life. Tyndale had been forced to leave his country; but he had left it only to prepare a seed which, borne on the wings of the wind, was to change the wildernesses of Great Britain into a fruitful garden.
=TYNDALE AT ANTWERP.=
The retired teacher from the vale of the Severn had settled in 1534 as near as possible to England—at Antwerp, whence ships departed frequently for British harbors. The English merchants, of whom there were many in that city, welcomed him with fraternal cordiality. Among them was a friend of the Gospel, Mr. Thomas Poyntz, whose brother filled an office in the king's household. This warm-hearted Christian had received Tyndale into his house, and the latter was unremittingly occupied in translating the Old Testament, when an English ship brought the news of the martyrdom of Fryth, his faithful colleague. Tyndale shed many tears, and could not make up his mind to continue his work alone. But the reflection that Fryth had glorified Jesus Christ in his prison, aroused him: he felt it his duty to glorify God in his exile. The loss of his friend made his Saviour still more precious to him, and in Jesus he found comfort for his mind. 'I have lost my brother,' he said, 'but in Christ, all Christians and even all the angels are father and mother, sister and brother, and God himself takes care of me. O Christ, my Redeemer and my shield! thy blood, thy death, all that Thou art and all that Thou hast done—Thou thyself art mine!'[59]
=TYNDALE'S CHARITY AND ZEAL.=
Tyndale, strengthened by faith, redoubled his zeal in his Master's service. That indefatigable man was not content to study the Scriptures with eagerness: he desired to combine with learning the charity that worketh. The English merchants of Antwerp, having given him a considerable sum of money, he consecrated it to the poor; but he was not content with mere giving. Besides Sunday he reserved two days in the week, which he called his 'days of recreation.' On Monday he visited the most out of the way streets of Antwerp, hunting in garrets for the poor English refugees who had been driven from their country on account of the Gospel; he taught them to bear Christ's burden, and carefully tended their sick. On Saturday, he went out of the city, visiting the villages and solitary houses, and 'seeking out every hole and corner.'[60] Should he happen to meet some hard-working father burdened with children, or some aged or infirm man, he hastened to share his substance with the poor creatures. 'We ought to be for our neighbor,' he said, 'what Christ has been for us.' This is what Tyndale called his 'pastime.'[61] On Sunday morning he went to a merchant's house where a large room had been prepared for evangelical worship, and read and explained the Scriptures with so much sweetness and unction and in such a practical spirit that the congregation (it was said) fancied they were listening to John the Evangelist.[62] During the remainder of the week the laborious doctor gave himself entirely to his translation. He was not one of those who remain idle in the hope that grace may abound. 'If we are justified by faith,' he said, 'it is in order that we may do Christian works.'
There came good news from London to console him for the death of Fryth. In every direction people were asking for the New Testament; several Flemish printers began to reprint it, saying: 'If Tyndale should print 2000 copies, and we as many, they would be few enough for all England.' Four new editions of the sacred book issued from the Antwerp presses in 1534.
There was at that time living in the city a man little fitted to be Tyndale's associate. George Joye, a fellow of Cambridge, was one of those active but superficial persons, with little learning and less judgment, who are never afraid to launch out into works beyond their powers. Joye, who had left England in 1527, noticing the consideration which Tyndale's labors brought to their author, and being also desirous of acquiring glory for himself, began, though he knew neither Hebrew nor Greek, to correct Tyndale's New Testament according to the Vulgate and his own imagination. One day when Tyndale had refused to adopt one of his extravagant corrections, Joye was touched to the quick: 'I am not afraid to cope with him in this matter,' he said, 'for all his high learning in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin.'[63] Tyndale knew more than these. 'He is master of seven languages,' said Busche, Reuchlin's disciple: 'Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, English, French, and so thoroughly, that whichever he is speaking one might believe it to be his mother tongue.'[64]
In the month of August Joye's translation appeared at Antwerp: he had advertised it as 'clearer and more faithful.' Tyndale glanced over the leaves of the work that had been so praised by its author, and was vexed to find himself so unskilfully 'corrected.' He pointed out some of Joye's errors, and made this touching and solemn declaration: 'I protest in the presence of God and Jesus Christ, and before the whole assembly of believers, that I have never written anything through envy, to circulate any error, or to attract followers to me. I have never had any other desire than to lead my brethren to the knowledge of Christ. And if in what I have written or translated there should be anything opposed to God's word, I beg all men to reject it as I reject it myself, before Christ and his assembly.'
It was in November 1534 that Tyndale made this noble protest.
While Joye was waging this petty war against Tyndale, every ship that came from London to Antwerp brought the cheering news that the great war seemed to be dying out in England, and that the king and those around him were drawing towards protestantism. A change had been worked in Anne's mind analogous to that which had been wrought in her position. She had been ambitious and worldly, but from the moment she ascended the throne, her character had expanded; she had become queen, she wished to be the mother of her people, especially of those who trod in the paths of Holy Scripture. In the first transports of his affection, Henry had desired to share all the honors of sovereignty with her, and she had taken this high position more seriously than Henry had intended. When he saw her whom he had placed by his side imagine that she had any power, the selfish and jealous monarch knit his brows: this was the beginning of the storm that drove Anne Boleyn from the throne to the scaffold. She ventured to order Cromwell to indemnify the merchants who had suffered loss for having introduced the New Testament into England. 'If a day passes,' people said, 'without her having an opportunity of doing a service to a friend of the Gospel, she is accustomed to say with Titus, "I have lost a day."' Harman, a merchant of Antwerp and a man of courage, who had helped Tyndale to publish the Gospel in English, had been kept seven months in prison by Wolsey and Hacket.[65] Although set at liberty, he was still deprived of his privileges and compelled to suspend business. He came over to England, but instead of applying either to the lord chancellor or to Cromwell for the restoration of his rights, he went straight to the queen. Anne, who was then at Greenwich palace, was touched by his piety and sufferings, and probably without taking council of the king, she dictated the following message to the prime minister, which we think worth quoting at full.